The Haunting of Nibelheim
by Prisoner Len
Summary: The woods of Nibelheim are haunted—but not in the way one normally thinks of a place being haunted. Cloud's rather skeptical about it. That is, until he gets lost in a blizzard and wakes up in an unfamiliar house. Very light ASGZC; oneshot.


**This story shows a lot of similarities to "Invisible Molestation" by Tobirion.**

**All similarities were completely unintentional, and both Tobi and I would really appreciate it if you'd go read Invisible Molestation. I've heard it's a great story, and Tobi is an amazing author, so why not give some of her other stories a read as well?**

**I've altered my story slightly to make them a bit more different.  
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><p>The woods on the edge of Nibelheim were haunted.<p>

Not haunted in the way of "something terrible happened here, and now there are bloodthirsty ghosts wandering about waiting to rip your hands off" or something. Haunted in the way of… well, things happened, and nobody could ever explain how or why. One time, little old Eunice's three year old doberman had gone running into the woods.

It came back two weeks later, without any of its legs.

Or its head, for that matter.

And it ended up in her _bathtub_.

Another time, Father Christopher's entire collection of Bibles disappeared. They were all found the next day, lying open to the same exact page and lining the entrance to the forest. Each one had a drip of blood on the word "angel". It was those kinds of occurrences that kept the citizens of the small farm town from setting foot near the miles of woodlands on the outskirts.

Mothers and fathers warned their children at a young age not to set foot near the trees. The townspeople lived in a daily fear of trees, really; numerous groups had been sent into the forest to find the source of the deaths, and the only thing they'd ever have to report would be that the woods were completely empty. No birds, no deer, no wolves. Just miles and miles of trees and dead, absolute silence. It was peaceful—in a rather eerie way. One man had claimed to see a beautiful woman, but the rest of the town had scoffed at the idea—why would a woman be wandering around the woods?

And so the trees remained a scary reminder that something was always lurking within. Some thought it was Bigfoot. Others thought that maybe it was a nomadic group that simply wished to be left alone. Even more believed that it was the devil himself terrorizing them for their ancestors for their ways of life, and that the town should pray extra hard for forgiveness. Something about sacrificing people every year.

Cloud Strife, an eighteen year old living on the edge of Nibelheim by himself, was a firm believer that it was all complete bullshit. He was not a religious person, nor was he superstitious at all. The citizens of Nibelheim hated him, he hated them. He wasn't like them, so they avoided him. He didn't belong there, and there was nothing he could do about it short of packing up and leaving—and he wasn't about to do that and prove to his parents he was incapable of living on his own and supporting himself. In his opinion, the "haunting" was a group of people simply trying to scare the townspeople—and clearly doing quite an excellent job. The woods were just that—a large section of land near the town that just happened to be covered by trees. So what if the search parties never heard or seen animals? That didn't mean they weren't there.

Of course, that was how he felt about it _before_ he became lost in the endless sea of trees during the worst blizzard he'd seen in his entire life. Granted, Cloud had lived in Midgar most of his life and rarely saw snow, but it was much worse than any storm he'd experienced in the two years since he'd moved to Nibelheim.

Just before nightfall, he had chosen to take a shortcut home; he planned to cut through the woods and make it home before it even started to snow. However, he had misjudged the weather, his sense of direction, and the rather large log that he had tripped over. He landed face first on the leaf-covered ground, knocked himself out, and woke up hours later.

And by then, he was covered in snow, freezing, had a cut on the side of his head that extended from his temple to the left-hand corner of his lip, and it was pitch black out.

He shivered uncontrollably, and his teeth chattered so loudly he was positive he heard the sound echoing in the empty forest, even over the wind that rushed through the trees. He knew better than to panic—panicking only caused people to become irrational. However, as he trudged through the now-knee-deep snow, and scanned his dark surroundings with wide blue eyes, he started to realize that the outcome of his situation may not be as great as he'd hoped. Clad only in a half-decent pair of boots, a long-sleeved shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of jeans, Cloud was freezing—and probably on the border of frostbite.

His fingers were numb and he shoved his hands under his armpits, taking another careful step forward. The snow fell so heavily around him that he could no longer see his footprints, and it made him even more uneasy than he already was. He was beginning to regret his decision to cut through the woods, as well as his mockery of the townspeople's fear.

Because now that he was lost in the snow, in the woods of Nibelheim, he was abso-fucking-lutely _terrified_.

With a shaking hand, he tried to shove as much snow as he could out of his spiky blonde hair, then slid his hands back under his armpits, curling his fingers in the fabric of his hoodie. He took another step forward, and his foot caught on a snow-covered log, sending him tumbling into the blanket of snow. He honestly felt like crying—something he hadn't done in years. He lay there in the snow for a long, quiet moment, taking in the fact that he could barely feel the cold air on his nose anymore, and that he was utterly exhausted.

And then he heard it.

It was an oddly familiar sound, and he just couldn't place it. A steady crunching sound. He frowned and focused his attention on that rather than the wind. It sounded like…

His eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet, whirling around and looking blindly into the dark woods.

He heard _footsteps_.

He stumbled forward quickly, pausing only for a brief second when he walked straight into a tree. Probably a fucking _birch_ tree, considering it was the only one he'd ever seen in the woods. The footsteps slowly became louder and closer, and—in a panic, and against all logical thinking—Cloud took off as fast as he could run in knee-deep snow. He flung his hands out in front of him, reaching in the dark for any trees before he could slam into them. Unfortunately, having his hands out did nothing to predict the stump in his way, and he went flying over it, twisting his ankle and landing harshly in the snow.

He hissed in pain, pushing himself into a sitting position and drawing his knee to his chest. The footsteps stopped, and Cloud scanned the perimeter in wide-eyed terror—not that it helped him when his vision was completely shades of black, white, and gray from the snow plowing through the dark night and into his eyes. He heaved a small sigh of relief, rubbing his sore ankle with shaking hands and hoping whatever was following him had given up.

And then they started again.

Menacingly slowly, they started once more—and they were creeping closer and closer.

Cloud swallowed hard and attempted to climb to his feet, but his grip on the tree trunk behind him slipped, and he tumbled back to the ground, his head thunking soundly against the wood. Before his world completely faded, he heard the footsteps come to a stop nearby, and a voice whispering harshly over the wind.

"Look what you made him do, _asshole_."

And right then, he was positive he was going to die in the woods and his body would end up being mailed back home to his mother and father in Midgar, finger by finger and toe by toe. And then finally, it head. Frozen, bloody, and detached from his body, he knew his mother would open it, take one look, and either laugh or cry—he never really was sure about her, especially after that one time she tried to bathe a wild squirrel in the sink…

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><p>Cloud groaned in pain, bright blue eyes blinking open in confusion. He groaned even when the light hit them and he snapped them shut again; his head was absolutely <em>throbbing<em>. Slowly, he opened them once again, staring straight up at a very unfamiliar ceiling. He frowned; hadn't he passed out in the woods? Where was the snow? What about the—

The _footsteps_.

He bolted upright, wincing as his blood rushed to his head, and looked around quickly.

He most definitely was _not _outside. In fact, he was on a large, comfortable couch in the middle of a quaint little living room. Flames flickered and licked at a brick fireplace, and a coffee table with four mugs on it was settled next to him on top of an intricately patterned rug. Two more chairs were placed on the corners of it. The walls were definitely wooden, and a television set was turned on and tuned to the Nibelheim morning news in the far corner of the room. He twisted his head around to examine the area behind him; a bookcase, a desk, and a staircase leading to the second floor.

He scratched his head in confusion—then blinked in confusion and glanced down at his hands. His surprisingly _un_-frostbitten hands. Both hands flew to his head and he felt around for any signs of him hitting it. Nothing; no blood, no scabs—not even any bumps that he could feel. He'd heard of materia curing in such a way… but nobody in Nibelheim even _owned_ materia. He sank back down onto the feather pillows that had been propping his head up, and watched the news lady on TV with a confused frown. The house looked _very_ expensive—like one of those ritzy mountain homes people got when they had more money than they needed—and he felt _very_ out of place in his...

With a completely bewildered look on his face, Cloud lifted the expensive-looking quilts draped over him, and looked down. And resisted the urge to let out a loud squawk of surprise. Because those pants were most _definitely_ not his, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen.

Somebody undressed him.

A _stranger _saw him _naked_.

Now, Cloud wasn't shy or anything. In fact, he thought he looked pretty good; his blonde hair was in a permanently disheveled state, his eyes were an incredible shade of blue, and he wasn't fat or anything. Sure, he wasn't a muscular god or anything, but he wasn't _ugly_, either. He'd caught a few eyes back in Midgar—he'd even had a boyfriend before moving to Nibelheim.

But the fact remained that he was in a stranger's home, and that stranger had undressed him.

He involuntarily shivered under the blanket and slid further down on the couch. He looked at his hands again, then experimentally moved his ankle. It wasn't much of a surprise when there was no pain present.

What the hell happened?

He remembered the footsteps, the running, and falling. He remembered hitting his head, and then… nothing. He shivered again, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A quick glance was cast around the living room, but nobody was there. Shrugging his shoulders, and trying to convince himself that he was imagining things, he turned to the TV. One thing was sure—he had been out for the entire night and the majority of the next day; he watched the weatherman predict the remainder of the blizzard, then wish the citizens of Nibelheim a good evening.

For the next half hour, the eerie silence of the house was only broken by the crackling of the fire on the hearth and the canned, fake laughter of the sitcom playing on the television set. He was half-asleep when he got chills once again and snapped his eyes back open. With a sigh, he slowly sat up and looked around again. Still nothing. He stretched his arms and yawned, then threw his legs over the side of the couch and kicked them back and forth, staring at the coffee table.

And then he frowned.

Because sitting right there on the table sat _two_ cups of half-drunken coffee. Hadn't there been four before?

…Nah, his imagination.

His foot nudged something, and his eyes shot down to the floor… where a pair of slippers rested. He blinked at them, then tilted his head slightly and slipped them on, climbing slowly to his feet. Again, he rubbed the back of his neck—he just couldn't shake the feeling that he was being _watched_. He chewed his lower lip and stood there awkwardly in the living room for a long moment, then carefully stepped forward, rounded the coffee table and stepped out of the large room.

A kitchen was just outside of the living room, and to the left was a single closed door. Crossing his arms over his bare chest, and feeling very vulnerable, he gave the tidy kitchen a once over. A table sat in the center of the room, with two empty plates resting on it. Two more were on the black marble countertop next to an empty sink. He frowned; where the hell were the owners of the house? He tried the door, and gave a relieved sigh to find it was a bathroom.

What? His bladder was ready to burst.

Swinging the door shut behind him, Cloud crept across the white-tiled floor of the blue bathroom, pausing for a moment to pull aside the white shower curtain to make sure nothing was hiding in there. He wasn't paranoid or anything, but the fact that he felt like he was about to use the bathroom in front of a dozen people was _slightly_ unnerving. He stood there, casting uncomfortable glances over his shoulder every half of a second, then rushed to zip up, flush, and leave the small room.

Back in the kitchen, he skirted the table and stepped up to what he assumed was the front door. Arms still crossed tightly before his bare chest, he leaned his forehead against the small window on the oak wood door and squinted through it. It was indeed the way out, and all he could see was dark and snow. Snow, snow, and more snow. Was this storm _ever_ going to end?

Something smashing loudly in the living room caused Cloud to jump, slamming his head into the window in surprise. He dashed back to the living room, mouth half-open and ready to explain why he was wandering around the cabin. But when he got to the living room, he froze, eyes wide.

Because it was empty, and there was no sign of anything breaking aside from a missing mug.

He leaned back slightly, peeked into the kitchen, then turned back to the living room with a frown.

What the _fuck_ was going on?

"H-Hello?" he called meekly, stepping slowly across the den. He blinked at the TV; it was on a different channel, showing an old black and white movie.

When no reply was given, Cloud turned his head and stared at the staircase. Maybe they were on the second floor? With a one-shouldered shrug, he slipped around the couch, started to pass the bookcase—

And stopped to study the bookcase instead, because _something_ had grabbed his attention in a vice-like grip. Eyebrows furrowed in thought, he cocked his head slightly and leaned closer to read the title of each book. _Great Victory: The Life and Times of General Sephiroth_, _Sephiroth: Leading the War_, _Shinra: The Leader of the Free World_. He jerked himself back, blue eyes wide.

_Sephiroth_? _The_ General Sephiroth? The man Cloud had aspired to be like for years until he just _disappeared_ three years ago?

He had first seen the man on the news, being inaugurated as the new General, when he was thirteen years old. He's spent the next five years looking for any and all news on the man—even when he'd disappeared shortly after Cloud's fifteenth birthday. It was a great mystery to Cloud—the most well-known person on the planet just up and disappeared with a small group of SOLDIERs. He was no longer in the news, his disappearance was mentioned once and only once. Cloud had even applied to the Academy at Shinra, but was rejected due to being under the weight requirement, despite the fact that he had been over by five pounds at the time.

Why did whoever lived here own so many books on Shinra and Sephiroth?

He cast a wary glance around the living room, gave the bookcase one last look, then started slowly up the stairs. Each step creaked, and with each creak, Cloud winced and closed his eyes, ready for somebody to show up and yell at him for snooping. But he _wasn't_ snooping—or he wasn't trying to, at least. He just wanted to find whoever had taken care of him and thank them. That wasn't snooping, right?

At the top of the steps, he tried once again to get a reply from someone. "Hello?" he spoke loudly, sticking his head around the corner. "Is anybody here?"

Again, no answer.

The upstairs was just a bedroom with the largest bed Cloud had ever seen. Another bookcase—much bigger than the one at the bottom of the stairs—was pushed up against the far wall with a couch next to it. A door was open to the left of the bed, and Cloud could see yet another bathroom. There was a closet to his right, and another TV to his left.

But no sign of any people.

With a defeated sigh, he turned and started back down the stairs. Maybe his caretaker had gone out? It was a bit far-fetched considering how heavy the snow was, but it was a possibility. But what about the mugs and the TV channel changing? Casting a sideways glance at the bookshelf as he passed it, he climbed back onto the couch and slid under the blankets. The channel changed again, and his eyes widened in shock—and then he shook his head and dug the controller out from under him. That explained the mysterious channel-changing. But what about the coffee mugs? He turned his head to the coffee table.

There were two mugs once again.

He shook his head and sank back down, turning onto his side. He was just imagining things; both mugs had probably always been there, and he had only thought he'd seen one when he heard something break. As a matter of fact, he'd probably imagined the crashing sound, too.

He was just tired and imagining things. That was all. Nodding to himself, he closed his eyes and drifted back into a restless sleep—only because he couldn't explain away the feeling of being watched.

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><p>When Cloud awoke once again, it was to the sound of loud, happy laughter. He bolted upright, eyes wide, and threw his head back and forth, looking around the living room. The television set was off, the coffee mugs were gone, and there was most definitely laughter ringing through the house from the kitchen. He threw himself out from under the blankets and dashed across the room, just in time to slam into the bare chest of someone a good bit taller than him. He landed with a yelp on his ass, closing his eyes to the impact, and the laughter came to an abrupt end.<p>

"Ah, _shit_!" a voice whined loudly. "You alright?"

Cloud cracked open an eye, and was met with the frowning face of a darkly-tanned, violet-eyed man, maybe a year or two older than him. His black hair was spiked all over the place, and he was crouched on the floor before Cloud, one hand on the blonde's shoulder, and looking _very_ worried.

Cloud quickly nodded his head and offered a small smile. "Yeah." He tilted his head to the side. "Are you the one who took me from the woods?"

"Took y—_Oh_." The stranger smacked his own forehead with a goofy smile. "Nah, that was Genesis and Seph. They saw you wandering around out there, but Gen said you ran when they tried to catch up to you."

"Uh…" Cloud cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "Genesis and…?"

"Zackary, you're confusing him." A new voice spoke softly, and a hand landed on the man before Cloud's hand. He followed the hand to a shoulder, then to silver hair, and…

"Y-You're G-General Sephiroth!" he spluttered, eyes wide. "But… you went missing!"

"Only during the day." Sephiroth muttered under his breath, offering a hand to Cloud. "You shouldn't sit on the floor. It's cold."

Cloud gingerly accepted the outstretched hand, and both he and Zack climbed to their feet. An arm was slung around his shoulders, and the raven-haired man steered him into the kitchen. It was just how he'd remembered it before he'd fallen asleep—a table, some chairs, but now there were no dirty dishes. Now there were just two men—one with black hair and a beard, the other with red—sitting there, smiling at him. Sort of. The redhead's grin was a little on the disturbing side.

"Oh, you're awake." the bearded man commented, propping his chin up on his hand. "We thought you'd be out all night, too."

Zack shoved the blonde down into a chair and sat down next to him, kicking his feet back and forth. Sephiroth shook his head at the group with a frown, then slipped into the living room.

The redhead was staring.

He was leaning forward on the table, a half-smirk on his face, and his blue-green eyes were boring into Cloud's.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he tore his gaze away to stare at the bearded man instead. "Um, hi?"

"Genesis." the redhead simply stated, holding out a hand and smiling. "And you're Cl—_Ow_, Angeal. What the _fuck_?"

"Angeal" was apparently the man with the beard. He narrowed his eyes at Genesis, then offered Cloud a warm smile. "Angeal. It's a pleasure to meet you…?"

"Cloud." Cloud replied, furrowing his brow in thought; had Genesis been about to say his name? How would he know it? "Cloud Strife. I'm from Nibelheim." He twisted around to glance at the doorway to the living room, then turned back to the three men in the kitchen. "Pardon me for asking, but… Why is General Sephiroth here?"

They exchanged glances, then shrugged at Cloud. Angeal cleared his throat and climbed to his feet, taking a mug out of the cupboard and rinsing it out. "Would you like something to drink, Cloud? We have coffee."

"Coffee sounds good."

They were hiding something. It was obvious in the way they moved and talked; Zack was suddenly distracted by the table, and Genesis was fidgeting, drumming his fingers. Angeal was profusely ignoring Cloud's earlier question and making him a cup of coffee. Frowning at the group, he stood from his chair and slipped back into the living room. Angeal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slowly. Zack and Genesis exchanged frowns.

Sephiroth was perched on the couch, simply staring at the fireplace with a frown on his face. He wasn't quite how Cloud had remembered him from the news all those years ago; his silver hair was tied up in a loose ponytail, he had on a pair of glasses, and he looked unusual dressed in a button-up and pair of jeans, compared to the uniform Cloud had always seen him in—but he looked just as young. Cat-like green eyes snapped to him as he settled on the couch next to him.

"Sir?" Cloud started, tilting his head. "Why are you here? What happened?"

And just like that, the eyes turned back to the fireplace. For a moment, Cloud didn't think he'd answer; he opened his mouth to apologize, but a long-fingered hand was held up and he snapped it shut. "You've heard of natural magic, right?"

"In stories, yeah." the blonde answered with a nod. "But that's all superstition, isn't it?"

The silver-haired man snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. "Not quite, Cloud." he snarled quietly, a frown on his face. "There was a man at Shinra, making threats left and right, telling us to stop all of the war going on." Those bright green eyes turned to Cloud once again. "We told him no."

He paused and shook his head again. "He was a natural magician."

"A natural magician." Cloud repeated doubtfully.

"Yes." Sephiroth confirmed. "Bent on ensuring Shinra got what it deserved."

"He cursed us." Zack interrupted from the doorway. Genesis was next to him, and Angeal was standing behind the both of them.

"We're gone during the day. We're—" Genesis tapped his chin in thought, then held up a finger with a gleeful laugh. "We're kind of like _ghosts_."

And Angeal smacked him upside the head once again. "He said that if we didn't exist, we couldn't wage war."

Cloud blinked at the group, then simply laughed at them. "Are you all crazy or something? You're kidding, right? You can't just _disappear_ during the day, and be there at night."

"Funny, you seemed rather scared when someone dropped one of the mugs this evening, and you couldn't find them." Sephiroth mused, cocking an eyebrow.

The blonde stopped mid-laugh, eyes wide. "N-No, I imagined that."

Genesis sank onto the couch next to Cloud and patted him on the back. "Poor child. He's too stubborn to believe, Seph."

Angeal sat in one of the armchairs and Zack plopped down on top of him, earning a quiet "oof!" from the man. An arm snaked around the younger man, and Cloud just _stared_.

And for the umpteenth time, he wondered what the _fuck _was going on.

"You're the ones terrorizing the town?" he ventured, looking at Sephiroth.

"Us? Terrorize?" the General questioned innocently, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Technically," Zack interrupted. "We've only played pranks. Some townspeople did the rest, to keep the 'legend' going."

The whole story sounded so completely far-fetched that Cloud wanted to laugh. But he didn't, because sitting next to him was the missing General of Shinra's army, along with what were apparently the other missing SOLDIERs. It was all completely ridiculous, and yet…

Cloud actually believed it.

He had to be crazy to, but he believed the story he was being told.

"So," he started slowly, looking down at his hands. "What now?"

"We can help you get home after this storm ends." Sephiroth offered, gesturing vaguely towards the front door.

"Or you could stay here." Zack suggested off-handedly.

"_Zackary_." the General warned, eyes narrowed. He turned back to Cloud. "Just let us know."

With that, Sephiroth climbed to his feet, and quickly left the room. Genesis sighed and took off after him, followed by Angeal and, eventually, Zack. The whole group was so odd—so tense. But it was an interesting decision; return to Nibelheim, knowing the man he had admired for so long was living so close, but he'd never see him—or stay.

Return to Nibelheim, or stay with a group of men he didn't know.

If his parents had been there, they would have laughed at the fact that their son was even considering such a thing.

But they weren't.

And he'd decided the second he'd been offered a place in the home.

He climbed to his feet and headed for the kitchen. Nobody would miss him if he left the town—but _he_ would miss someone if he stayed. Mouth open and ready to answer, he stepped through the doorway and paused.

Because Genesis was kissing the General, and Zack was in Angeal's lap again.

He cleared his throat, and four pairs of eyes turned to him, not a single one surprised. "What, uh… Are you—"

"Together?" Zack supplied, eyebrows raised.

"Fucking?" Genesis offered. Another hand met the side of his head and he frowned up at Sephiroth, rubbing his temple. "Stop hitting me, you asshole."

"We are together, yes." Sephiroth answered.

"Oh." It was the only reply that came to the blonde's mind.

Oh. These four men that saved him were dating.

…Oh, this whole situation was so _bizarre_.

"We're not expecting anything from you, Cloud." Angeal started, cocking an eyebrow.

Genesis took a large step away from Sephiroth, then innocently said, "I'd have no objections if you tried to jump anyone, though."

"_Genesis_!" three voices growled in unison.

Cloud wasn't desperate or anything, but—

No, no. He definitely was. Because Nibelheim was homophobic, and he was an outcast. He was desperate enough to try to hold conversations with Ethel and Eunice, despite the fact that they were both far off of their rockers and thought he was their dead mother. He was desperate enough to call his parents and beg them to visit him.

They always said no.

He'd even considered getting a cat. And then he remembered he was allergic.

Oh yes, Cloud was maybe a _little_ bit desperate.

"I'll stay." he interrupted the bickering going on in the kitchen, shrugging his shoulders.

It wasn't a normal situation at all; he was agreeing to live with four strangers, simply based on what they had told him. Any normal person would run screaming—maybe even laugh at the idea. But Cloud wasn't normal, and neither were these men. This was General Sephiroth and the SOLDIERs that had gone missing all of those years ago—the very men that he'd aspired to be like, and someday meet.

So to Cloud, the situation was just slightly _awkward_. Not scary or crazy, but _awkward_.

And the kiss Genesis planted on his lips after hurling himself across the table didn't help that awkwardness a whole lot.

The woods of Nibelheim were haunted, but not in the way one would think. They were haunted by four incredible men—there during the night, and gone during the day. And they were haunted by a very human teenager by the name of Cloud Strife, who finally solved the mystery of the woods. He still wasn't superstitious and he still wasn't religious, but he felt like he finally belonged somewhere. Maybe his parents were right. Maybe he couldn't live alone.

But he didn't have to anymore.

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><p><strong>So I started out loving this. And then I got up to the explanation process and meeting Zack, Angeal, Genesis, and Sephiroth. And then I hated it.<strong>

**But my love for the creepy forest and house exploration outweighs my hatred for the last bit... sort of. And it's the first thing I've finished lately, so I decided to post it.**

**I honestly creeped myself out pretty badly writing the woods part. Probably because I typed it up at night. In the dark. And it was windy. And I had no idea what genre to make this, so I went with horror (well, it did creep me out x .x) and romance.  
><strong>

**Well, kinda crappy last section or not, hope you enjoyed it~**

**Again, all similarities between this and "Invisible Molestation" by Tobirion were unintentional. Go read IM. Do itttt.  
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